Or Freeze Response
by The Frisky Firelily
Summary: Psychologists have added another component to the stress response. Sequel to Flight or Fight, please read first. Complete.
1. Freeze

**TITLE:** Or Freeze Response

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine.

**A/N:** So I couple of people liked the idea of sequel to Flight or Fight. I would recommend reading that first. Big thanks to my lovely reviewers from the first fic :D This takes place directly after the Fight or Flight, because don't you wonder how River reacted?

**FREEZE**

He'd expected the yelling. The bright lights had been flipped on by Simon who looked shocked for a moment before he was joined by an irate looking Mal. Zoe had been the next to enter, immediately drawing her Mare's Leg and aiming it between his eyes. Kaylee and Inara had come to see what the commotion was about, and had stood silently, eyes wide.

It honestly took him about five minutes to realize that Mal's eyes were dancing with laughter as he shouted ridiculous threat after ridiculous threat. Simon couldn't keep a straight face any longer, and also joined his Captain. Inara and Kaylee had smiled, the latter giggling, whilst Zoe had quirked her lip momentarily.

They'd known. His evil houze de pi gu of a Captain had just seen an opportunity too good to pass up, and Jayne couldn't decide if he was angry or amused. Probably a little of both.

He expected Kaylee's giggles, her hushed tones with Inara. He'd expected Simon to warn him about the consequences of breaking his sisters' heart, expected the Captain to back him in those warnings. The fact that they were done with amused smirks softened them a little, but the warnings were official none the same.

What he hadn't expected was what River did. After the crew had left he'd turned to her, leaning in to kiss her, when she'd turned her head away from him. She rose gracefully, the large t-shirt she used as pyjamas swamping her slim frame. She held herself straight and tall as her eyes finally met his.

They were the coldest, most distant eyes he'd ever seen.

"She knows what he did. He wanted to leave." Her voice was hollow and emotionless. No accusation, no recrimination, just statement of fact. He blinked once, shocked by her reaction. He'd expected happiness at being discovered, expected her to be overjoyed at finding him in her bed. He'd never felt like a more arrogant hun dan than he did at that moment.

"Came back didn't I? Decided I couldn't leave you." To his own ears the words sounded stupid, sounded like a pathetic excuse for his actions. She raised one eyebrow imperiously, looking for all the world like a bored queen examining a bug.

"She doesn't want to be a second thought; she doesn't want to feel grateful he came back. She doesn't want someone who would leave in the night, not a word, not a whisper, each silent step shouting betrayal."

He couldn't form words. He felt cold, the room felt cold, his core felt cold. He couldn't look away from her frozen eyes, couldn't look away from the expressionless mask of her face, couldn't look away from that regal posture and dignified rejection.

Her eyes narrowed momentarily, and he shivered. The tiny slip of a girl standing in the centre of the room looked as though ice would begin pouring from her fingertips if she willed it. She gestured gracefully towards the door, the movement looking out of place, as if she were a statue briefly brought to life.

"He can leave now. He's good at that."

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, to attempt to form words. It took every ounce of strength he had to move his limbs from their frozen lock, to stand and look down into those eyes. She was more than a head shorter than him, but he felt about a foot tall when she held him in that icy gaze. Her eyes narrowed again at his slow movements.

"Baby-girl, I came back, I didn't wan-"

"Leave."

She never raised her voice, never spoke above that cool, impersonal tone. But the underlying steel of her words was enough to silence his protests, and he retreated to the only reaction he'd known. He glared angrily at her, but she didn't flinch, didn't move.

He stomped out of the room, moving quickly down the hall, elbowing Simon out of the way as the doctor headed to see his sister. The younger mans' confused look just fuelled his anger, and he quickly retreated to his bunk.

Simon stepped into his sister's room, pausing briefly as he swore he felt a thin layer of ice coating the walls. She turned to him, her eyes still holding that frozen look, before her face crumpled.

"He tried to leave, couldn't, psychological response was too ingrained. She had a gift for him, had a present. But he wanted to leave the party. Why should she be joyful at a return, why should she be grateful that he reassessed? What was now may be again."

Simon looked at his sister as a solitary tear slipped down her cheek. He moved towards her, extending his arms, letting her come to him rather than forcing the contact on her. She did, clutching at him like a lifeline, her quiet sobs breaking his heart again and again. He moved them to the bed, sitting down and pulling her into his lap like he used to when they were children. She curled her legs up to her chest, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, pouring out her pain into the only source of constant love she'd ever known.

"_Mei mei_, please don't be mad at me for saying this, but maybe you've overacted a little? He changed his mind, didn't he? The changing hormones can make you feel more emotional. Have you even told him?"

He expected her to fly into a rage at that, expected her to react like most women would when faced with a stupid male opinion. But she merely raised her head, looking at him with red rimmed eyes that still held more water than they should.

"He wanted to leave when he thought it was just her. Just the girl. On her own she was enough to push him into wanting to leave. What would knowing the truth force him to do? She will not use life as a bargaining chip; will not be made to feel retention of love through obligation."

Simon understood what his sister was saying, a feat her was more than a little proud of, but couldn't help wondering if perhaps her usually razor sharp reading was a little off. He'd known for a while now that something was going on, had been able to see that there was more to their relationship than that of crewmates.

Jayne wasn't as secretive as he liked to believe. A fool could see the way the big man's eyes trailed over the ships' Reader, could see the way his hands would linger on her when they came into contact. His attempts to throw off any watchers were difficult to witness, his harsh tone of voice making Rivers head droop and eyes become downcast. Simon wondered if perhaps the physical changes his sister was going through were throwing off her abilities to Read, or perhaps this was just too personal for her.

Whatever the reason, he knew he couldn't do anything more than what he was doing now. Holding her, comforting her, looking after her. He knew at least that he could do that.

He always had.

The entire crew had entered into some kind of silent pact not to comment on the interactions of the mercenary and the girl. They saw him try again and again to talk to her, only to be met with stony silence, cold eyes, distant looks. They watched him try to get back into her good graces, watched as she ignored him entirely. Every attempt at contact or conversation was frozen out, and the atmosphere on the ship was painful.

But they held their tongues, knowing that Simon was right, that only the two of them could work out whatever was happening between them. So if on some mornings River would run from the breakfast table to the nearest bathroom, if ever one of them noticed a thin pale hand drifting over her still flat stomach, if ever Jayne's temper became a little too much to bare, no one said a thing.

Inara and Kaylee wondered how he didn't know, how he couldn't have noticed, but agreed that he was probably distracted by the constant coating of ice he was receiving. Mal had been about to say something more than once, only to find Zoe shaking her head, eyes projecting the need for silence.

Jayne himself was experiencing physical pain at the ongoing separation from River, and wondered more than once how he had expected to be able to cope without her. Seeing her every day and knowing he didn't even warrant a hateful glance, and angrily shouted word, only this ongoing distance was enough to drive him mad.

She wouldn't react, wouldn't indicate that he was anything more than a speck of dirt on her radar, wouldn't allow him to come within five feet of her. He missed her something fierce, would lay awake in his bunk at night remembering her touch, her laugh, the way her eyes used to light up warmly when he'd enter a room.

All this self-reflection was damaging his calm something fierce. Largely because he couldn't just remember the good things. He also remembered the way her face would close down when he publicly rebuked her, remembered the bruised look in her eyes when he told her to leave his bunk, her hands scratching at her arms as if trying to remove some of the dirt he'd left on her. Remembered the way she'd stare at him, confused, when he'd go from laughing with her to calling her names in front of other people. Always making sure she knew that she was just a piece of trim, always making sure to project his lack of emotion and commitment towards her.

Whilst it may not have been what he was feeling internally, which would explain the confused look she'd get when he treated her cruelly, it was enough to hurt her something fierce. He thought about the night he'd gone to leave, how convinced he'd been that she'd be happy to welcome his touch and his heart when he changed his mind, how arrogant his assumption of gratefulness had been. In her sleep she'd snuggled into his neck, holding him tightly. But the next morning the ice had been enough to make his blood run sluggishly. She'd held herself so rigid, as if she was embarrassed by her reaction to him while she slept.

The ice layered over and over. It had been a month since that fateful night, a month since he'd made that stupid almost mistake that had cost him so much. The ice had overwhelmed him, and his body and mind, desperate to protect his shattered psyche, reacted the only way they knew how.

He froze.

He was exhausted, unable to sleep, feeling that ice slip through his veins and in towards his core. He stopped bothering her, stopped trying to make contact with her. He stopped most things apart from working out and doing his chores. He forgot to eat regularly, his large frame losing some of its bulk, his face looking gaunt and his eyes growing flat.

He would respond to requests, would carry out orders, but there was no laughter, no smirking, no snide comments or games of hoop ball. There was no one living in that hollow shell.

Just ice.

**A/N: **A lot more angsty than I'm usually capable of, but fear not kiddies, y'all know me :)


	2. Response

**TITLE: **Or Freeze Response

**DISCLAIMER: **Nothing here is mine etc etc etc

**A/N:** More, gentle readers, I've quite enjoyed writing these :) Sending out thanks to Ali who reviews heaps of my stuff and is a total sweetheart about it! I might be making you cry a little more babe!

**RESPONSE**

The crew thought he'd stopped noticing things, stopped paying attention to anything in which he wasn't directly ordered to be involved. But he noticed. He noticed how she was wearing even baggier clothing than usual, though he couldn't decide why. She'd lost weight from her arms and legs, looking thinner and less healthy than she had in months. Her hair was hanging around her face all limp and tangled again, and he knew Simon was becoming stern with her as far as eating went.

He wondered why the crew was treating her like some fragile doll, especially when she'd turn those cold eyes in his direction for a moment. But he'd noticed that those moments were getting fewer and further between. She looked like she was struggling to maintain composure, and he could have sworn he saw her glance at him once with eyes that held some emotion her couldn't name. She'd been sick, though Simon wouldn't tell him why, had just gazed at him with calm eyes that held some measure of pity.

The old Jayne would have gotten angry at the sight of pity, would have reacted with a cutting remark and a swift rebuke. But that was the old Jayne. The man he was now, and he chuckled darkly at the term "man", didn't react to things like that. Didn't care. Was frozen solid.

He moved towards the galley, sick of Mal nagging him to come to dinner, sitting himself noiselessly down at the table and ignoring the greetings of the others. She was there, sitting in her usual spot, although he couldn't find himself caring, couldn't feel the steady thrum of tension and excitement that close proximity used to produce. He'd feel bad about the loss of it…except he didn't feel anything. Not these days.

Her brothers large white shirt made her look even smaller, even paler, and her legs were little more than bone. She was picking at her food, and he thought he felt the briefest touch of concern before it was extinguished in the ice surrounding his psyche. People were talking, people were eating, then people were clearing the table. It wasn't his turn tonight, so he stood to leave, and that was when he noticed it.

Her hand moved. That something so seemingly insignificant could bring so much into perspective would have shocked him if he'd been bothered to think about it. One pale hand rested, momentarily, on her stomach, and the movement highlighted the slight bump, briefly visible before disappearing under the bulky fabric of her stolen shirt.

A bump.

Jayne suddenly couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see beyond the red haze that was gathering in front of his eyes. If he had looked around he would have seen his suddenly tense crewmates staring at him fearfully, the girl in question looking at him with wide eyes and a frightened expression. He couldn't see any of it, could only feel. It started somewhere deep in his stomach, triggering his breathing to start, raggedly panting from his mouth. It spread slowly through his chest, the sensation of feeling emotion after so long a slow burn that melted away the ice he'd been surrounded by for the last three months.

Spreading further now, out across his arms, raising goose bumps over his flesh, causing his fists and fingers to clench and his neck to knot with tension. He welcomed every second of the burning, rising anger, welcomed every newfound ache of bone and tightness of muscle, welcomed the adrenaline flowing through him, preparing him for battle. The last of the ice casing around his heart, his mind, his body was burned away in the slow heat, and as his eyes swam into focus he finally saw the faces of those around him. He wasn't ice anymore. He was fire.

He thought briefly about talking, before he remembered he was Jayne Cobb. He didn't talk. He battled.

He grabbed those scrawny sticks she called arms, pulling her from her chair and setting her on the newly cleared table. He'd lost weight in the last few months, but none of that was muscle, exercise being the only refuge from his ongoing hell. His thick arms were tight with tension, and the recent gauntness of his face meant the light shadowed hollows of his cheekbones and eyes. He looked like some ancient monster from earth-that-was. His limbs hummed with simmering rage, his eyes wild and his breathe harsh. He pulled her right to his face, til she was close enough to feel his breathe on her face.

"You kept this from me. Acted cold for months. Hid my gorram kid." He was shouting, his voice sounding hoarse with lack of use and ongoing pain, and he felt Mal and Simon quickly grab either of his arms, pulling him away from the girl. He let them. Her eyes, briefly concerned but now distant and bored looking, burned him to his very core, and for a moment he wished he could feel nothing but ice again.

"He wanted to leave, he doubted. She didn't want a bargaining chip."

"How long, huh? How ruttin' long have you known that my kid was growin' in ya? How long were you gonna keep yer gorram mouth shut?" Mal and Simon both struggled to hold either arm of the massive man, and Zoe had stepped beside River, whose cold expression was cracking under the weight of her own fury.

"He tried to leave! Crazy girl too much for him, change your mind but leave the seeds of discontent, sown and sown and sown, waiting for sunlight? Your choice. Her silence would have remained until necessary, she just needed to wait until he fulfilled his own prophecy."

His face twisted with rage and pain, brain struggling to make out her words, catching the gist of what she was saying.

"I fucking stayed, ya Crazy moonbrain witch!" Mal and Simon pulled him further back, the Captain intent on removing him from the situation.

"Now Jayne, I ain't sayin' our Reader had the right of it, but all this stress can't be good fer ya young'un can it?"

That made him pause, briefly halting his struggle to free himself from their arms, some of the anger clearing from his vision. He took several deep breathes, shaking his head to clear the last of the fog of rage. He surveyed the girl carrying his child. She really was far too thin, her little body apparently unable to cope with the stress of supporting another life form, her skin so thin it looked translucent in the kitchen light. He could see the tops of her ribs from the collar of the shirt she wore, could count the bones across her chest. He straightened, feeling Mal and Simon relax their grip the tiniest bit.

"Ain't goin' anywhere girl, not with my blood growin' in ya. Best get used to it."

And with that he turned, striding from the galley towards his room, leaving behind a broken and confused family of misfits.

**A/N:** Um…so this was meant to just be a two parter with a nice resolution of angst in this chapter…but apparently this plot bunny is raging out of control…who knew? Please review!


	3. Whisper

**TITLE:** Or Freeze Response

**DISCLAIMER: **Still nothin'

**A/N: **So yeah, this is kinda snowballing and getting away from me. Bit worried because G o B (first reviewer, yay!) has an amazing fic called Reflex that she's working on that kinda deals with similar themes…wondering if I should scrap this and start again. Feedback please? I don't wanna be nicking someone else's concepts…

**WHISPER**

He's taken to watching her. He doesn't care if it drives her nuts, doesn't care if she's still trying to give him the cold shoulder. It isn't just about her anymore, and he doesn't care who knows it. He's lucky the rest of the crew seem to be on his side when it comes to looking after her. He won't let her leave the table now unless she's eaten enough. When she tries to leave too early, he simply grabs both hands and lays a massive boot over her smaller feet, trapping her. If she don't eat enough for two, she don't get to leave the table. Other men would probably be terrified, knowing what she can do, but he just makes sure to block all her avenues of escape or battle. Can't do much with no hands or feet.

The first time he did this she looked to the Captain and her brother with pleading eyes, but Mal just nodded in Jayne's direction, and Simon was staring thoughtfully, knowing she needed to eat more. She'd huffed once and said she wasn't a child, to stop treating her like one. Jayne had just raised an eyebrow.

"Ya ain't acting mature enough to be a mother when the damn kid is still inside ya, what makes ya think you'll be mature enough when it's out?"

She looked horrified and furious for a moment, but was forced to acquiesce. The rest of the crew were finding it amusing, Jayne acting like a bossy big brother to the girl carrying his baby, making sure she ate, forcing her to rest by taking her paper and pencils until she napped, getting her to do light exercise to build back some of the muscle tone she'd lost in the first three months. He was acting like a dominant older sibling.

But he wasn't her sibling.

The brief contact of forcing her to stay at the table burns at him for hours afterwards, and he hates that she insists on fighting him on it every night. If she'd just agree, one night, to eat properly than he could have a little peace, a little freedom from the sensation of contact he craves so much. Her body is changing, and he can't help but notice it. Her breasts, usually small but firm, are now swollen, sitting perkily on her chest, and he has ongoing battles with his optical orbs to avoid staring at them.

Her stomach is growing, now five months along she has finally stopped vomiting everything she eats, finding a little more energy. Captain still won't let her go on jobs, not with the doc worried about her Reading abilities at the moment. Even if he had let her, Jayne wouldn't have. Not with his little one growing inside her.

The latest job has left him with a shot to the shoulder, and his drug induced stupor is making him see things. Because there's no way she's standing there, watching over him, running a single soothing hand through his hair.

When he's awake he finds himself with two visitors. The girl is stretched out on the other bed, her brother moving some kind of device over her swollen stomach. A loud thumping noise is heard throughout the room. Simon says it's a heartbeat. Jayne stares at the screen, watching the ultrasound form a picture of his baby. He wants to hold her, to be excited with her, but she refuses to look away from the screen, she won't meet his eyes.

She leaves quickly, clutching a capture of their offspring in her hands, and her brother lingers as he packs up the instruments. He glances over to the mercenary.

"She wasn't due for one of those for another three days. She said she wanted one now."

He leaves quickly, and Jayne tries not to ponder over his words, tries not to think about how he'll be allowed out of the infirmary in two days' time. Tries not to remember how much she hates coming to the infirmary, tries not to contemplate why she would do so by choice, early. Tries not to wonder if she did it deliberately, if she wanted him there. Once he's recovered he watches her even more closely, but she gives nothing away, and he pushes aside any thoughts he had of possibly being wanted still.

He's fixated on her stomach, completely focussed on how strange it looks to see someone so small and thin with a her stomach distended, tries to control the longing to touch the area his baby his living in. He's jealous beyond belief of Inara and Kaylee, both of whom have taken to talking to her stomach, occasionally being allowed to rub a hand over. She's six months along now, and Simon says that kicking is normal. Jayne's mouth waters.

He's sitting in the galley, sharpening his knives before the job later today. She's been told to lie down on the couch for a rest, although he allowed her to have a book for the first half hour. He sees her hand dart out to her stomach, sees her face change briefly to an expression of surprise.

"What's wrong, girl?" Never baby, never River, just girl. He can't bring himself to call her anything else. She looks over to him, her eyes soft for the first time in months.

"Pounding feet in swollen stomach, saying hello." He snorts, looking quickly back down to his knives, hoping she didn't catch the look of desperation in his eyes. He forgets she's a Reader. He's so intent on looking indifferent that he doesn't hear her approach. She's standing beside him, one slender arm outstretched towards him.

He can't help himself, he puts his large hand in her smaller one, allows her to drag his hand to her stomach. It's hard and smooth, and he waits for a moment, still seated, while she stands patiently. There it is, a tiny flutter against his hand, followed by another. For a moment he doesn't care what she thinks of him as his eyes grow wide and he grins for the first time in half a year. He forgets about fighting and anger and pain, and places both hands on either side of her still small waist, pulling her forwards. Seated he still comes up to her collar bone, and he lowers his head to her stomach, pressing his ear against it tightly.

She's gone briefly rigid, before relaxing, and hesitantly putting a hand on either shoulder. He hears it, faint but strong, the barest lub-dub, lub-dub against his ear. He grabs her thin wrist and begins tapping out the rhythm. She allows him a few moments before she steps back, hands dropping. His face closes down and he is about to turn back to his work when her voice stop him.

"Jayne, she is pregnant. You are going to be a father."

It's the first time she has ever said those words to him, the first time in months that she's spoken to him directly without shouting, her voice now soft and full of pain and repentance. He looks into her eyes, remembering how they used to dance when he made her laugh in private, remembering how they used to be so filled with light. Now they're melancholy and miserable, and he can't help himself. He pulls her back towards him, until she is forced to place one leg on either side of his own thighs. He looks up into her face, placing one hand firmly against he lower back, knowing the pressure will ease some of the ache she feels there. His other hand raises towards her face, running through her tangled hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.

"I messed up didn't I baby?" She sniffs, then whimpers, then sobs, and before he can stop himself he's swept her up, one arm wrapped around bracing her back, the other under her knees, and moves them both quickly to the couch. He just holds her for a moment, not caring about the wetness on his t-shirt, only struggling to keep his own emotion in check. His voice is horse when he speaks again.

"Shoulda done this a long time ago. I love you. Jus' you. Even if this kid weren't comin' it'd still be you. An' just cuz I got scared, just cuz I got stupid, don' mean I ain't here for ya, however ya want me."

She raises her head to meet his eyes, tear tracks marking her cheeks and tearing at his heartstrings. One pale hand comes up to place itself against the side of his face.

"However she wants?" He nods, unable to form words in the face of her large brown eyes and fragile self-control. She nods in return, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Can she keep him?" He looks at her long and hard, completely unable to believe what she's asking from him, what she'd be willing to give to him. The months of fighting, of hurt, of pain, all fall to the wayside. The agony ends not with a bang, or a shout, but with a whisper.

"Long as you'll have me, baby-girl."

The kiss is the most fragile, delicate thing he's ever felt, wet with salty tears and the taste of love, warm and comforting. She's shaking slightly, and he wraps his arms tighter around her, kissing her back with controlled fervour, incapable of believing his luck. He's tasting her again, all cherries and salt and pink lips. His stubble scratches at her cheek, her hair tickles his shoulder. He feels complete.

The Captain and the Companion enter the galley, only to catch sight of the couple on the couch. They look at each other, share a smile and leave. Warnings are issued to other members of the crew, and dinner is delayed that night. Much later he carries her to his bunk, still kissing her, still holding her, still tasting her. Their kiss has turned rough and full of need, and both their bodies burn with the desire to possess their mate once again.

Later, as they lie in bed, he rests his head against the side of her stomach. The bump is still small, but his sensitive ears can make out the faint heartbeat of their child. She is running her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and stroking his cheek. He looks up at her, moving until his body is suspended over hers.

"Do ya know if 's a boy or a girl?" She smiles, the special, secretive smile he didn't think he'd ever see again, and nods. He grins expectantly.

"He can name her, as a gift." His brow furrows before he realizes she's telling him he has a daughter. He scoops her up delightedly, spinning her naked around his small bunk. She laughs, that free, beautiful laugh he has longed for all these months. When he stops and lies them both back down he looks to her.

"Ya like them flowers don't ya? The pretty white ones? Lilies?" She nods, smiling at him knowingly. "How bout Lily?" She smiles wider.

"Nicest flower ever given."

He kisses her, and decides that now would be a good time to give her the ring he bought months ago, still clinging to a reality he never thought would occur. Now it has, now everything he ever hoped for has come true. He has the most beautiful, deadly girl in the verse, and in three months time he'll have a daughter just like her. He smiles down at her, and she smiles back for only a moment.

Then her eyes screw shut with pain.

Then the sheets begin to stain red with blood.

Then the screaming starts.

The agony starts with a bang, with a shout, and inbetween her moans of pain and anguish she manages to whisper.

"She's loves you too."

His world collapses.

**A/N:** Oh my…it appears my angst button has been pushed. This fic seems adamant that it is more than a quick romp, and who am I to deny it? Hope everyone is enjoying this (in that slightly painful way that one might say they enjoy getting a root canal). Please review!


	4. Aftermath

**TITLE:** Aftermath

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine.

**A/N:** You're all so damn lovely :) The fact that you take the time to read and review is everything to writers, and it's just so nice to see that other people enjoy what we're doing, especially nice to see people who love our favourite couple so much! Just FYI – not a doctor, please take this with plenty of salt.

**AFTERMATH**

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It wasn't her heartbeat. Simon had made that clear, had told him kindly but explicitly that it was the machine doing the work, moving the heart, keeping the blood flowing through her lifeless body. Hundreds of years ago this technology had existed, but could only keep a body "alive" for a few hours at a time. But that was then.

It had been two months.

Two months since he'd scooped her up with the bloody bed sheet wrapped around her pale body, two months since he'd run pounding through the halls of the ship, hollering bloody murder until not a member of the crew was left sleeping. Two months since he'd gingerly laid her down on the bed on which she still laid. Two months since her brother had firmly pushed him aside, desperately working to control his sisters' bleeding and shaking.

She wasn't there, he'd said. She couldn't mentally feel what her body was going through, couldn't identify "pain" the way a normal person would perceive it. The body felt it, was convulsing, shuddering in agony, her face with its blank eyes twisting into horrific expressions and rictus grins of anguish. All the while blood had gushed from between her legs, her skin growing paler than it ever had, deathly white in a room already bleached of colour. He'd never seen anything more terrifying in his life.

Until it had stopped.

Until the moving had stopped, the breathing had stopped, the heart had stopped. Until Simon had urgently applied every machine he had at his disposal, and several that he'd ordered Kaylee to modify into something useful, trying anything and everything to keep blood pumping and oxygen flowing.

It had taken him six long, painful hours to fully stop the bleeding and try to establish what was happening. Jayne hadn't moved from the infirmary window, no crewmember had been able to draw him away from the viewing station. When Simon had finally emerged, looking older and in more pain than he ever had, Jayne knew he wasn't going to say anything good.

"It's when a pregnant body goes haywire – instead of working at optimum levels to support both life forms, every wire gets crossed, everything changes. The fetus is alive, is alright. I think…I think it was done deliberately. I think they wanted a self-destruct sequence."

Jayne hadn't needed to look into the sunken, hollow eyes that reflected everything he knew was written on his own face to know that there was nothing more the boy could say. He'd collapsed onto the couch next to Simon, both men staring straight ahead, straight into that room. Inara was fighting tears, Kaylee was weeping outright, and Mal was shaking.

Jayne had finally found the strength to stand, to walk into that horrific room, to look down at her. This wasn't like when she slept, no gentle rise and fall of her chest, no secret smile and calm visage to entrance him. This was looking at a corpse, deathly pale, the electronics causing a violent spasm in her chest with every artificial heartbeat.

Two months.

The decision had been made to keep her "alive", keep her in this stasis, only for the child. Only for his little girl, his baby, the one thing he had left. He'd done this to her, hadn't been careful enough, hadn't protected them the way he should have. But he couldn't quite bring himself to regret it the way he should – at least there would be some tiny part of her left.

He knew Simon, as pained as he was, agreed. Knew the doc had known how excited and terrified his sister had been, how she talked to her stomach for hours at night, how she smiled that special, private smile whenever her hand trailed over her bump. That bump was eight months old now, and her body was nothing more than an incubator for the fragile life inside. IV's of nutrients, artificial heartbeat, false oxygen – she almost looked like a machine herself.

Two months.

Every single day since that day had been the same. He and Simon would rise before anyone else, would meet in the infirmary, neither saying a word. To say this had brought them closer would be an inappropriate statement – there was nothing enjoyable about this kind of association. But they both needed the other, needed to see their own pain reflected and know they weren't alone.

Simon would do his checks, Jayne would simply sit. Sometimes he'd help the doctor wash her, clean down her frail body, nothing but skin and bone except for her distended stomach. Everyday Simon would perform an ultrasound, looking out for his niece, doing every check he could think of to ensure healthy development.

After two hours Simon would have to excuse himself, unable to stay in the same room with the lifeless thing wearing his sisters' face. He would come back a few hours later, eyes red rimmed and barely holding onto himself, carrying a lunch for each of them. Inevitably they'd simply pick at it, both men now looking as gaunt and wasted as they ever had. Kaylee and Inara would come in the afternoons, talking to River the whole time, tending to her hair and telling her everything that was going on.

Jayne had to leave when they came, couldn't bear to hear their voices trying fruitlessly to sound normal and relaxed, hearing the shakes when they would speak of how the baby was doing. Kaylee would hold Simon, letting him draw on her strength. Mal would come in with Zoe afterwards, both faces grimmer than the war had ever left them. They would simply stand by stoically, occasionally talking about the next job. Every assignment went off without a hitch – it was as if the 'verse knew there was no more hurt to give them, that this drawn out goodbye was killing each member slowly, painfully.

Occasionally Zoe would come and find him in the cargo bay, punishing his body. She would simply sit by him, not saying a word, but he finally understood what Mal had drawn from her all these years. And missed the little man even more. She knew, she understood.

Simon hadn't wanted to remove the baby until it was at least eight months along. She'd been six months in when the worst had happened, and that was two months ago. D-Day.

He had barely moved from her side in two weeks, had changed the routine, unable to fathom the reality of her not being there. Unable to move from her side in these last moments. He had tried speaking to her, but it had never been his strong point. She wouldn't have needed it anyway, would have been able to See everything much more clearly than he could articulate. He stopped trying to speak, stopped speaking at all. The silent hulk of a man was now lost. So now he sat, as he had for hours, one hand resting on the home of his child, the other stroking her lank hair over her face.

Simon entered.

Jayne left.

The operation begun.

Jayne had never known the doctor had the kind of strength it must have taken to cut the baby out of her, had never known the Core boy could fight back his emotions so well to fulfil his sisters' last wish. He stepped into the infirmary. They'd sown her up, the machines working their last few moments, and he looked into Zoe's eyes. Ancient eyes. Eyes that had seen the worst ends of the 'verse and survived, eyes that now held his with empathy and pain as she handed him the tiny bundle in her arms.

He looked down into his daughters' eyes, already slitted open, mouth silent despite the bright glare of the harsh lights. River. His beautiful girl, the woman who was meant to be his wife, his everything was etched onto the tiny face of his baby girl, the eyes that same coffee brown, little tufts of chocolate hair already visible on her tiny head. A tiny carbon copy of the mother she would never know, of the woman whose strength and beauty she would never experience. He'd never felt so happy or so anguished at the same time.

Two months.

Two months and he hadn't cried. Two months of sitting beside her, of lying awake in the bunk that still smelled of her, two months of watching her deteriorate and disappear before his eyes. Two months of pain and he hadn't cried.

But looking into the eyes of his baby girl, the eyes of his world, he couldn't help himself. One lone tear trailed a solitary path down his cheek, landing in the middle of her head. She made some kind of baby noise, it sounded happy, but it was hard to tell. She was so new. She was so little.

He looked up at Zoe and Simon, seeing the rest of the crew gathered outside the door of the infirmary. It was time.

He couldn't make himself leave, even knowing not a soul would begrudge him. Simon's face was a mask of agony, Kaylee and Inara unable to fight their tears, Mal and Zoe standing by, powerless to stop the small flickers of grief that crossed their otherwise stoic visages. Another loss. It was too much.

Inara was first, years of self-control useless against the waver in her voice. "So long in pain mei mei, so much taken from you so young. I hope your last waking moments were happy ones. I hope wherever you go you'll be free, be happy. I love you."

Kaylee could barely control her sobs long enough to speak. "I'll…I'll miss you so much. I'll take care of him, I promise." She stepped back into Inara's embrace, shaking in distress, looking to Simon with bloodshot eyes.

Mal was next. He stood over her silently for a moment. "Be good, albatross. It was an honor to be your Daddy." He turned away from the group as he stepped back, drawing comfort from Inara's brief, hesitant touch of his arm.

Zoe was next. "Goodbye little one. I'll protect them. If you see him, tell him I love him. Look after each other." Her breathing hitched as she wished for an afterlife.

Jayne stepped forward, his fragile baby girl clutched in his massive arms, making him feel like a beast too large and clumsy to handle anything so delicate. He sat at the chair that had been his home for the last two months. As he spoke for the first time in weeks his voice sounded rough and grated, gravelly from lack of use and grief.

"Baby girl, this is her. This is Lily. I'll…I'll do my best, I'll keep my promise. I'll be there by her forever. I…"

His voice trailed off, and finally he cracked.

"Baby please don't go, please don't leave me. I can't…I don't know how to do this. I ain't good at this, I need ya fer this. Ya said ya wanted ta keep me. Please…" He stopped himself before the tears could come, collected himself, breathed deeply. He held the baby out, letting one tiny cheek rub against the cold one of her mother.

Simon was shaking as he stepped forward and laid one hand on Lily's blanket, the other on his sister's shoulder. Tears now rolled freely down his face, a brother who had given everything and finally found it wasn't enough.

"I'd do it again. Over and over I'd do it again. You were my gift. I love you."

And with that he turned off the machines. The silence in the room was deafening. It roared its pain, its agony, its anguish. The ship seemed to grow colder, seemed to begin its mourning. Nobody could move. Jayne felt his baby girl shift in his arms, suddenly distressed by the silence, suddenly alert, aware, worried.

Minutes passed, the baby growing fussier with every passing second. She started making small mewling noises, building up to heart wrenching sobs, into full blown tears. He looked down, unable to think of what on earth he was meant to do, unable to force his grief blinded brain into action. The rest of the crew were all watching the baby, also frozen in place as the baby cried out their agony and pain. The cries crew to fever pitch, and he started to worry something was really wrong as her screams began to fill the boat.

And then suddenly, like a switch had been flicked, she stopped, looking content and happy.

Which meant that seconds later, when the body lying on the bed suddenly shot to life, when the unused voice of a 19 year old psychic began filling the ship with her own hoarse screams, when an emaciated, scrabbling figure fell from the bed onto the floor on atrophied legs, when wasted hands began clutching at a now empty stomach, not a person on the crew knew what to do.

Lily did.

She giggled.

**A/N: **Cuz I'm just not built for the real heartbreakers damnit! Please review :)


	5. Gift

**TITLE: **Gift

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine.

**A/N: **Ah, finally I'm getting this thing under control and winding it down. Little independent turd that it is! I'm so glad you've all enjoyed this ride, and to everyone who has stuck out the angst, I'm glad you know me so well :) All your reviews have been divine, I'm sorry for anyone I made cry but thank you nonetheless!

**GIFT**

She shook, her entire body awake and shot through with the pain of movement and life for the first time in months. She was screaming, clawing at her stomach from her position on the floor, and though her cries never got any quieter or less desperate, they began to gain some semblance of coherence.

"Not right not right tiny voice tiny mind talk please talk where why they've taken two by two by two by two, will not take her to the blue room, cannot take her, please talk, please move, please think little mind please please please…"

The cries went on, her voice sounding as if the pain of talking was nothing compared to the pain of her own words. Simon rushed to her side, anxious and confused and terrified and exhilarated all at the same time.

"Mei mei, what are you saying, what is happening?" She turned ghostly eyes towards him, devoid of any sense of recognition beyond seeing another human being in front of her. She paused, briefly, drawing in a huge breathe.

"WHERE'S MY BABY?" The scream echoed throughout the ship, ringing anguish and fear and desperation into every single onlooker. Jayne, still barely able to think straight, moved forward, was by her side immediately. Simon held out an arm to stop him.

"I don't know, I don't know if she's ok, I wouldn't-" he was cut off by a sharp look from the mercenary who held out the bundle to the trembling girl whose body shook simply from the effort of keeping herself sitting up. She reached out one shaking hand towards her child.

"Mine? Alive? Not inner…gone now. Tiny mind harder to hear but still there. Mine?" She looked to Jayne with pleading eyes, stick like arms reaching out, waiting to receive. He nodded dumbly, unable to form words. He held out his baby girl to her mother, disquieted by the sound of the little girl's happy humming against the silence of the infirmary.

Her arms shook with the effort of holding her baby, and Jayne made a quick decision. He swept his girl up, carefully balancing so as not to disturb his child, and set her on the bed so she could rest against the raised back. The rest of the crew were stepping forward unsure at what they were seeing.

River sat on the bed, a gaunt ghost, looking terrifyingly skeletal after months without movement. Her arms rested against her legs, back supported, for all the world a barely animated corpse. But the eyes, those huge eyes with their long dark lashes were wide awake, focussed and alert for the first time in forever. The madness underneath was barely visible, all attention resting on the tiny girl in front of her.

Nobody spoke, Simon shaking and looking ready to break down in hysterics. Finally, after what seemed like an age, she looked up at Jayne, barely able to raise her head properly she was so weak.

"Best flower in the 'verse." And with that her shattered brother broke down, sobbing and laughing and shaking against the bed, burying his face in the sheets around her legs. She lifted one exhausted arm, stroking his head and whispering some forgotten lullaby from their childhood.

She was alive. Their girl, their albatross, their Reader, their crazy little witch was alive. Jayne did what he had longed to do for months. He picked her back up as gently as if she were dust, ready to blow away any second. He sat himself down on the bed with his girls wrapped tightly in his arms, sitting between his long legs with her back leaning against his chest, his face buried in her hair and her neck.

If she felt the hot tears sliding down the back of her neck she said nothing, allowing him to hide is agony and relief, allowing him to release the last two months. Simon managed to collect himself enough to reach for a chart of tests to complete, and Mal was finally moved into action.

"Right then. Kaylee, you and 'Nara get to working on dinner. Zoe, you help the doctor with anything he needs to be done, I don't think Jayne's up for it right now. I'll be on the bridge." And with that he turned, exiting the infirmary. He stopped in the doorway for another brief moment, looking straight into those brown eyes that revealed an inner strength and fire like he'd never seen before.

"It's good to have you back, 'tross." She managed to pull her lips into a smile, ignoring the pain as her dried mouth cracked a little with the movement. "She missed you Daddy." And with that he swept out of the room, moving to the bridge as fast as his legs could carry him. Only Serenity would see him cry out his relief, only the metal bulk of his ship would see the joy and release. And he wouldn't have had it any other way.

Kaylee stepped towards the bed, looking at the girl who sat calmly now, her tiny daughter reaching up one chubby hand towards her long hair, pulling at it. The mechanic had a watery smile on her face, and her hands were shaking.

"We thought we'd lost you, though you'd go. I…I'm so glad you're back." River looked at her strangely. "Couldn't leave her family, too much looking after to be done." Her tiny frame shifted as Jayne silenced another sob against her bony back. Kaylee ran one hand over the little bundle in River's arms.

"Ain't she a beauty." River smiled at her proudly, the look both beautiful and terrifying on her wasted face. "Girl of Serenity, no surprise." Kaylee nodded, understanding for once what she was saying, and swiftly kissed her cheeks. She smiled again, stronger this time, moving over to Simon. She looked him in the eye, resting a hand on either shoulder as he stared back, eyes joyful and bloodshot from two months of pent up exhaustion.

"Ya always said she were a gift." He grinned, the look now foreign but still beautiful on his face, and he nodded. "She always did love to prove me wrong." He kissed her cheek, loving the way she smiled like the sun back at him, loving the way her eyes were no longer pulled tight with the effort of holding in her own pain, of supporting him. He was going to marry this girl.

Inara stepped forward, running one hand over the side of River's head Jayne hadn't buried himself in. Her eyes were twinkling with tears of joy, her fingers brushing the fine skin of River's cheek, and then the softer skin of the little girl in her arms. Her voice was low with controlled emotion, but her words rang through the infirmary.

"Amante in fortitude. Welcome home little one, you have been missed." River nodded. "Veni, vedi, vici. They can't beat her now." Inara blinked back her tears and followed Kaylee out towards the kitchen. Zoe stepped forward. She laid one shaking hand on the baby, years of self-control forcing her eyes to remain steady.

"We'd lost hope. We didn't…" She couldn't form the right words, couldn't make her mouth work to describe the hell that had been the last two months. To lose two crew so quickly, to lose her husband in fiery pain and quick death, and then to watch someone so young, so brutalized succumb to another vile act of the alliance, slowly disintegrating. She didn't have the words. But River did.

"He gave me something to give to you." Zoe looked at her hard, unsure of what to make of her whispered words. River shook her head. "No confirmation of Book's symbol, no bright lights or cumulus that she has seen. But she was given something nonetheless. Crew checks."

Zoe looked confused, raising her head to where Simon was standing with his mouth open. He looked briefly ridiculous, like a fish gasping for air, before he finally found the words.

"I took samples from everyone a year ago, trying to examine the general health of the crew, using the cyro freeze to preserve them. From all the men…" His voice trailed off as Zoe's eyes began to fill with tears, realizing what he was saying. River laid that thin hand on her arm.

"For you. Last piece of the puzzle." Zoe nodded and left quickly, running to her bunk. She dropped down and curled into a tight ball on her bed, the terror and joy and confusion of the last few hours finally destroying her years of control. She cried and laughed, sobbing and giggling out her pain at this last gift of Wash, at this last thing he had for her. Her man had never failed to surprise her, had never failed to make her smile. And now she could have a piece of him, could have this final present from her betrothed.

His child.

The infirmary was silent, the four inhabitants quiet for different reasons of their own. Simon was trying to stay focussed enough to work through his checks, to find out what had happened. He had a feeling that no amount of medical expertise was going to answer his questions, had a feeling that just knowing he was given the gift of her again was probably going to be enough. Aside from the weight loss and muscle atrophy she seemed alright. Brain function was as normal as hers could ever be, blood and oxygen levels good, reflexes still faster than a normal persons. It would take months to regain back the muscle and strength that she had lost, but if anyone could do it his sister could.

River and Lily had their own reasons for being quiet, had their own reasons for simply staring at one another, a small smile on the face of the mother, the wide eyes of her staring up at her. They hadn't won, could never win, could never beat her. Not when she had everything she ever wanted in this very room.

Jayne had managed to control himself, breathing deeply, becoming aware of the tactile feel of her. His thick arms swamped her thin waist, ribcage and hipbones protruding grotesquely, spine pressing into his chest. She smelt like hospital soap and medication, her thin body so tired it did little more than rest against him, exhausted from the effort to stay awake.

But she was here. She was alive. His girl, his world, his everything was back, resting the her head against the crook of his shoulder, holding his newborn daughter in her arms. She turned her head away from the baby minutely, just enough to look at him with eyes that warmed him to his very core. Sunken and tired they may be but they were open, they were alert, they were hers.

"She told him she would keep him. She couldn't break her promise." He held her more tightly if possible, nuzzling his stubbled cheek against hers, taking comfort from the contact. He didn't have the words, didn't have a thing he could say, but she smiled at him as if he'd given her the world.

And looking down at their daughter, looking at the young woman in his arms, looking at her tired but overjoyed older brother, he figured maybe he had.

And she'd returned the favour.

**A/N: **Ok so a little bit more on recovery and Zoe, possibly a little epilogue. Who knows…the damn thing is having its way with me and I secretly don't mind. Latin phrases were (poorly translated), "In love there is strength" and "I came, I saw, I conquered." I know they speak Chinese mostly but I thought the Companions Guild would probably hold on to the dead language. Also, if I seem overly focussed on River's appearance it is because I've seen the ramifications of two months in a coma, and it ain't a pretty sight. Please review!


	6. Finale

**TITLE: **Finale

**DISCLAIMER:** Blah Blah Blah

**A/N: **As always a massive thanks to those who continuously review with such warmth.

**FINALE**

It had taken months for River to recover. Four, long months of gentle exercise and bed rest. Four months of building back lost muscle and regaining her footing in the world. If she had been exhausted, if she had been sore, if she had been upset over her difficult recovery she never said a word. There was too much to be grateful for.

Her brother laid out a gruelling pattern of recovery, knowing his sister could handle it, knowing that anything less would be insulting to her. Every morning Jayne would wake up earlier than anybody else, taking his baby girl into the kitchen for her breakfast. Then he would carry the tiny child down to the infirmary, where her mother would already be awake and waiting for them.

As he had on that first day when she had risen from the dead, he would place the baby in her arms, and then pick them both up, carrying them down to the cargo bay. Lily would giggle happily at her mother, who would ask her all about her dreams in a gentle voice much older than her young years.

Once in the cargo bay he would set her down on a crate and wait, watching over his two girls with fierce eyes. After a few moments, never longer than five, her brother would enter the cargo bay; carrying two cups of coffee strong enough to kick a team of draft horses into action. One of these would go immediately to Jayne, the other clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Jayne would then take Lily back and move to sit on his weight bench.

His baby girl never cried or sulked, she was strangely calm and happy, unless one of her parents was distressed. Mostly she burbled and giggled, never seeming to mind that he didn't fully understand, just enjoying the rumbling voice of her father reverberating through his chest. Simon would help River down off the crate, and simply stands by. A month in they had found a beat up music player, and Kaylee had been overjoyed to be able to offer her services to fix it for them.

Simon knew the best way for his sister to recover was ballet. It had been her release, her single source of freedom in the stuffy, painful world of Osiris. It had been her reprieve from madness, knowing that even with her brain broken into pieces she would still retain the muscle memory of all those years of dance. She had started when she was only three years old, and had never looked back. So this was the best way for her to recover. Simon had studied ballet in a way he never had before, pulling up any and every article on the cortex, reading profusely to make sure that the practice would help her regain her strength, her flexibility, her health.

It had started slow, painfully slow. In those first few days she couldn't even stand on her own, and Jayne had gently held her ribcage upright so she could just relearn how to walk. He would support her while she very slowly moved her feet into the five positions, focussing all her energy on the movements and the muscles of her turnout. Finally, when she had been able to stand on her own for short periods of time, she would begin her _tendu's_, sliding her foot slowly across the floor to stretch what little muscle was left, back to basics after all these years of expertise. But her body did remember, just needed time to regain what was lost.

_Plies_ were added, building the strength in her legs, and soon the arm positions were incorporated into her rehabilitation. Mal and Jayne had welded a barr for her to use as she practiced, and eventually she was able to move away from it, standing on her own as she performed _balances' _and _pirouette's. _After three months she was able to perform her six o'clock leg raise with the barr, and two weeks later without the added support. Finally she was able to put her _pointe_ shoes on, having passed her brothers' rigorous testing of the strength in her calves and ankles. Weight was gained back painfully slowly, her already thin frame unable to take on too many calories at the start. Simon monitored every meal carefully.

At first she could only spend a few minutes training, moving up to half an hour, then an hour, and so on until she was able to practice for long stretches of time. Around lunchtime Jayne would place Lily back in her arms, knowing how much she needed the contact with their daughter. He would carry her up to lunch, first in the infirmary, then in the galley. The first few weeks Inara and Kaylee would bring in a tray of food that Simon had ordered, along with books and vid-viewers to entertain her. They would sit for as long as they could, talking to her, brushing her hair, even painting her nails at one point.

During this little ritual Jayne would feed Lily and then place her in a makeshift cot by the infirmary bed for her afternoon nap. River needed so much sleep at the start that it seemed like a good idea to have one knocked together. When she was able to start taking her meals at the galley the whole crew would gather round the table, despite lunch previously having been a grab and go type deal. They would talk about little things, unimportant things, just happy to be around their family. Lily would stay in Rivers lap, peering over the table with wide brown eyes and a ready giggling laugh.

After three months Zoe made her announcement, much to the joy of the rest of the crew. Even Mal couldn't keep the smile from his face, not when seeing the light return to his first mates' eyes for the first time in months. Simon was pedantic to the point of annoyance to Zoe, always checking and demanding updates. She had been about to complain once but Rivers' eyes had snapped towards her, and the still gaunt frame of her recovering crewmate was enough to shut her mouth. Besides, Wash would have been just as bad.

After four longs months of recovery, Simon had invited the rest of the crew down to the cargo bay. Jayne was already seated comfortably on a crate, Lily tucked into his lap as she watched everyone enter. River stood in the centre of the room, black yoga pants over her black backless leotard, thick pink warmers on her legs, _pointe _shoes tied around her ankles.

Kaylee and Inara seated themselves on Jayne's weight bench, Mal and Zoe standing by Simon, who looked proud and nervous. Jayne's expression was tight, ready to jump forward and help if necessary. He even passed Lily over to her Aunt Inara, in case the worst happened. He didn't think it would, but thinking had never been his strong point.

River lay down gracefully in the centre of the floor, and the music started slowly. One slim arm, now thin and taut from muscle rather than wasted bone, trailed along the floor as she sat up. She slowly stood, as if guided by her now risen arm, and slowly began her dance. Her leg rose gracefully, dipping back down and extending straight out to the side. Her hair whipped around her face as the music picked up, and she spun like a perfect fairy in the centre of the room.

She fluttered gracefully over the floor, legs extended perfectly for her leaps, spins and kicks. She split down to the floor, rising delicately and continuing to create the beautiful dance of recovery, of joy, of peace. Her face radiated confidence and happiness, her curling hair falling over her shoulders like a waterfall, her smiling lighting up the room. Finally the music began to slow again, and she slowly returned to her position in the centre of the floor, looking for all the world like a sleeping angel.

There was a moment of silence. Tears were running down Inara's cheeks, Kaylee sniffing at the beauty of what she had just witnessed. Mal recognised the victory in her face; saw her strength and fire, saw her take back everything the Alliance had tried so hard to destroy. He had never been prouder of her.

Zoe had one hand resting on her stomach, eyes glistening with unshed tears as she thought about what they had lost, what they had almost lost, and what she had gained. Simon was grinning, eyes full of pride in his sister, in her seemingly endless inner strength and fortitude. Jayne couldn't tear his eyes from his shiny girl, grinning widely at the display of control and grace, unable to believe she was his.

The finale of the pain and agony of the last months was incredible - simply through movement she had wrung out every last drop of anxiety and anguish that had plagued every member of the crew. The end of the pain, the end of the fear, the end of the heartbreak. The finale.

The room erupted in applause, thundering and joyful as every single member lived the victory and triumph of her recovery. River was standing now, breathing heavily but smiling. She looked to where her mate sat, eyes locking with his, shining with triumph. They couldn't take anything from her now, couldn't beat her. She had her family, all of them, they were hers and she wasn't going anywhere. Not ever.

Jayne looked to Simon.

"So doc, she cleared? She all healthy now?" Simon nodded, grinning. "Yes, I declare her 100% healthy."

Jayne stood immediately, scooping River up and throwing her over his shoulder like a cave man. She giggled loudly as he turned to Inara, who was still holding his equally giggling daughter.

"You mind watching her fer a few hours?" Inara nodded, smiling at his ridiculous display. He thanked her and moved up the steps towards the crew quarters faster than you could say 'I'll be in my bunk'.

Five hours later, when they finally emerged, looking exhausted and sated, there was a bright, sparkling ring on the fourth finger of River's left hand.

As she picked up her daughter and walked to the kitchen, her soon to be husband making funny faces at the baby over her shoulder, she thought it might have been the best performance she'd ever given.

The ballet, that is.

**A/N: **As much as I hate when writers babble about themselves, this story has given me an outlet for a difficult time, and I can't thank you all enough for the beautiful words you give me again and again. There will be an epilogue to this little tale, but please know how important your kind words have been.

Also, PLEASE go look up Polina Semionova on youtube, I think the search term is explicitly "Polina Seminova!" This is the piece on which I have attempted to model River's recovery dance. Even if ballet isn't really your thing please give it ago, it's quite enthralling. Please review!


	7. Curtain Call

**TITLE:** Curtain Call (Epilogue)

**DISCLAIMER: **Weren't mine in the last six chapters, and I probably haven't got 'em now.

**A/N: **An ending to this tale, thanks so much for coming on the journey with me. This has been my first fic with real angst…even if I can't seem to make it stick! Luckily y'all don't seem to mind too much! If Lily seems a little advanced (i.e thoughts and vocabulary) just keep in mind she's River's kid, so I'm using a little artistic license.

**CURTAIN CALL**

It had been one year since his girl had woken from her death sleep. One year since he'd been given back what he had so nearly lost forever. One year since he had been given more than he could have ever hoped for.

It had been six months since he'd made her his wife, and it had only taken that long because his Ma had waved him and given him a chewing out like none he'd ever heard before. There was no way she was letting him get married anywhere but his home planet. It had taken them two months to get to his home planet of Deja, two months of daily waves from his mother demanding to speak to her soon to be daughter-in-law and see her beautiful grandbaby.

His Ma had been waiting as soon as he'd landed, sprinting past him to envelope River in a massive hug. They were the same height, both slender as willows, and Vera Cobb had delighted in telling the crew about her son's penchant for pretty things.

She'd swept up her granddaughter from Jayne's arms, cooing and talking to her, charmed and enchanted by both mother and tiny lookalike. Finally she'd turned to Jayne with proud eyes that held unshed tears of happiness. "My baby boy, you've done well." He'd grinned widely, picking her up as he hugged her, and his Pa and brothers had been only moments behind, creating a massive dog pile on their long lost Jayne.

Their wedding had been bigger than he would have liked, but River had simply smiled her special smile and told him "packs must meet clans to become tribes". Simon had led River down the aisle, handing her over to Jayne with a look that spoke of the kind of understanding two men could only have in the face of nearly losing their world. Mal had officiated, looking straight ahead less anyone see the tears in his eyes.

Ma Cobb had held her granddaughter, occasionally allowing her tall husband a turn, smiling and crying the whole time. Lily had giggled at her parents happiness, enchanting everyone around her with her long dark lashes and ready gummy smile. Her Mama had looked so pretty that day, all dressed in a simple strapless gown of pale cream, her long dark hair loose with tiny flowers strung through it. Daddy was just in his cargo pants and boots, but he was wearing a red shirt with no lady faces on it. Mama said Daddy had always looked better in red.

Jayne thought about dancing his first dance with River had the reception; sweating and nervous because he couldn't hold a beat if his life had depended on it. She'd stepped back after only a few moments, frowning, and he had been sure he'd blown it when she ran to the side quickly. But she returned with his daughter held tightly in her arms, and he'd grinned at how well his wife knew him. He'd simply swept them both up, spinning them around and listening to the ringing sounds of their laughter. His whole clan and crew had burst out laughing, but the sight of the giant man with his tiny, slim wife and bubbly baby girl was truly delightful to every onlooker. Jayne leaned his head back in the galley, briefly whisked away to that moment. Until another scream ripped through the ship.

He sighed, picking his daughter up from her spot on the table top next to his unloaded guns and trudging down to the infirmary. Mal had been beyond anxious when Zoe had gone into labour that night, eventually requiring a sedative from Simon, who was in turn reamed out by a furious Zoe.

"If I ain't takin' any don't you dare give 'em to him." Inara was now waking up a slightly dazed Mal, while River calmly sat on the other bed. When Jayne and Lily entered she beamed at them, taking the little baby from Daddy and moving forward so he could swing an arm around her waist. Simon was working frantically, still feeling the pain of River's own sickness, and Kaylee was fretting just outside the door. The little mechanic was twisting the wedding band on her finger. She had no idea how to tell her worried husband that she was going to be going through the same thing in only eight months, but thought perhaps now wasn't the best time.

Simon, realizing that his panic was making him unfocussed and sloppy, quickly turned to his sister. His eyes said it all. She simply smiled at him. "All will be well." He'd visibly relaxed at those words, not bothering to reflect on how much he trusted his sister's Reading.

Jason Washburne entered the world exactly 364 days after Lily Cobb, and if the little girl minded that it was so close to her own birthday, she didn't say a word. Although her vocabulary was expanding at a terrifying rate. Jayne was still confused as to how he'd managed to distract her after she'd asked what "copulation" was.

Zoe reached out for her son, drenched in sweat and panting but looking happier than she had in a year. The bright blue eyes of her late husband stared back up at her, and she felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, mingling with the sweat of exertion. Everyone but Mal left the room, the Captain now fully awake and simply standing by the bed. He didn't say a word.

He didn't need to.

Zoe had recovered quickly, out of bed and moving around the ship with the little boy strapped to her chest after only two days. She'd only stayed the second day because Simon had forced her, and even that had been difficult. She looked a mite funny, all fierce and stoic but smiling privately whenever Jason would move against her chest. The baby boy was truly striking, his father's bright blue eyes standing out against his mocha face and dark curly hair. Wash would have been proud.

Kaylee was never one for being able to keep a secret, so it was no surprise when she and Simon came to dinner one night that the doctor had that strange mix of pride and joy and terror on his face. Inara had smirked privately at Mal's reaction, knowing how much the Captain couldn't resist little Lily, or stop himself from talking to Jason in that silly voice. All the anger and bluster was a lie, and the rest of the crew knew it just as well as she did. As congratulations were passed around the table, the annoyed look in his eyes softened as he proudly surveyed the crew he had assembled, the family he had stumbled upon.

Lily sat on her father's lap at the dinner table, occasionally reaching out and putting a protein covered hand on a strand of her Mama's hair. If River minded, she never said a word, only smiling and gently putting the hand back every time. The game delighted Lily no end, until she noticed the new face. She pointed.

"Bubby. Bubby Wash." Jayne smiled as he patted her head. She looked up at her big Papa, her head bending back to lean against his chest. "Mine?" Jayne shook his head, "No baby, he's Aunt Zoe's."

Lily nodded wisely, standing on her chubby legs (well, leaning really, as Jayne had one hand bracing her back) and turning on her father's knees to face him. She laid a hand on either cheek.

"Daddy mine? I can keep?"

Jayne looked over to River, who smiled happily. She cleared her throat, her daughter turning to look at her Mama. "Must share little Cobb." Lily nodded again.

"Ours? We can keep?" She looked back at her Daddy now, waiting for her answer. His eyes looked happy; she liked it when Daddy looked happy, even if he only looked happy for her and Mama.

"As long as you want me baby girl." Lily beamed at her father and his chest swelled with pride as she gently patted his cheek. Her sweet little voice rang proudly through the galley as she made her declaration.

"We keep forever Daddy."

"Well baby girl, that's good enough for me."

Yup, forever sounded just perfect to him.

**THE END**

**A/N: **The end of this little tale, gentle readers. I can't express my appreciation for your ongoing support – you're all just too damn lovely! I don't know if I'll ever write a sequel to this, but who can say. I hope you've all enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Now I really should finish Occasions before I start anything else!

Until next time Browncoats!

The Frisky Firelily


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